


shifted realities

by etherealanything



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Happy Ending, Multi, Polyamory, canon divergence but with established blackhill, does that count?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-14 18:21:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29050578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etherealanything/pseuds/etherealanything
Summary: Clint follows Natasha off the cliff on Vormir, and the consequences of that decision.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Laura Barton, Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, Maria Hill/Natasha Romanov
Kudos: 25





	shifted realities

**Author's Note:**

> (the characters and settings do not belong to me, i'm just having a good time with them.)
> 
> this fic has been in the works since i first saw endgame, though almost all of it was written in the last month. that being said, i haven't seen a marvel movie in a year (and i haven't seen endgame since it came out), so i kindly ask that you handwave any inaccuracies. thanks to everyone on tumblr who puts up with my vague rambles and to my lovely beta, who insisted that nobody but myself says "you've got another think coming." (if you do, please let me know in the comments so i can prove her wrong)

**i. soul**

_Vormir, somewhere near the center of celestial existence_

He’s always been the resourceful one of the group, pulling through at the last moment to save everyone’s asses. But this time it seems as if there really is no way out of it.

Clint’s first reaction is regret. How could he have let Natasha sacrifice herself? He knows this is necessary, knows it’s the only way to bring back Laura and Cooper and Lila and Nathaniel, but that shouldn’t have to mean losing his best friend in the process. 

He wants to shut his eyes, tries to, but finds himself still looking at Natasha’s rapidly plummeting body. He can see that she’s closed her eyes, and it breaks his heart to see Natasha resigned to anything.

As he watches her fall, he sees her lips move. It’s barely discernible from this distance, even with the complete silence, but his lip-reading skills, begun out of necessity and perfected through years of spycraft, have never prepared him for any moment better than this.

“ _Sem’ya_ ” - family.

That word. It’s one of the few Russian words Natasha had taught him that he’d ever been able to remember. Maybe it’s supposed to provide a measure of comfort, to remind him of what he’s fighting for. If that’s her intention, it has the exact opposite effect.

Clint is suddenly acutely aware of just how much Natasha means to him. Since the beginning, there’s been something between them, but neither of them have ever acted on it. At first it was out of awkwardness, but as they became closer and closer, the risk of jeopardizing their friendship became too high. He doesn’t regret it. He loves Laura, knows she’s the best thing that could have happened to him. But Natasha is family too.

Later, he’ll blame his actions on the adrenaline. It won’t matter, then, because they’ll have won. He will have his whole family by his side, been able to save all of them. When he tells the story, he’ll say it was as though he was possessed by some other being, unable to control himself.

But in the moment, he’s completely aware of his actions. He doesn’t think about Laura or Lila or Cooper or little Nathaniel. Instead, he has one perfectly clear, awfully selfish thought: if he has to lose Natasha to win, it’s just not worth it.

There isn’t time to think of a plan. She’s falling fast, every moment taking her farther away from him. So Clint does the only thing he knows how to do: he acts.

He’s never been particularly religious, even after a literal god showed up on Earth, but he fires off a quick prayer to any deity who might be listening before he, too, relaxes his grip and dives.

As he falls, time seems to stretch out before him like taffy, and he suddenly has all the time in the world to realize what an awful plan this is. The most likely scenario is that they’ll both die, and this whole goddamn treasure hunt will have been a failure. If possible, someone else will be sent to retrieve it, and that person will have to make yet another unthinkable sacrifice. His rashness will destroy yet another precious thing. But all he does these days is destroy, isn’t it?

The angle of his fall means he’s picking up speed, closing the distance between them until he’s almost close enough to touch her. By then, the ground is rapidly approaching, so he resists the urge to reach out to her, closing his eyes instead and bracing for an impact that never comes.

Instead, he wakes up in a shallow pool, the water splashing around him as he sits up. The sky is strangely hued, blood red instead of the pink it had been before. He can see mountains in the distance, and clouds that almost blot out the sun, creating a strange pattern of shifting shadows. 

He looks around, but Natasha is nowhere to be found. Realistically, he knows that this is probably the best he could hope for. He’s lucky to even be alive, what with the foolish move he’s just pulled. Still, he feels something in his heart break at the knowledge that she’s gone. A soft sound breaks the silence and Clint realizes that he’s sobbing, tears streaming down his face. How can he go on without her, his best friend, a part of his soul?

Then she’s next to him, rising out of the pool as gracefully as always, strands of her wet hair falling in her face. His first thought is that it must be a trick conjured by the stone. One more cruel jab to drive home what he’s lost. Or maybe she’s a dream, evidence that he’s actually lost his mind. Or, he supposes, though this is not at all what he’d thought Heaven would be like, whenever he’d bothered to consider it, this could be the afterlife. 

Then she, whoever _she_ is, turns to him, confusion evident in her face.

“Are we alive?” she asks, and it’s only been a few minutes since he last heard her voice, but his memory still doesn’t compare. 

“I’m not sure,” he says, pinching himself lightly as if that will suddenly reveal the truth. 

Clint notices for the first time the heaviness in his palm, his fingers clutched around something. Slowly, he opens his palm, watching the glow of the Soul Stone increase as he unfurls his fingers. It’s beautiful in a terrible and almost unreal way, the idea that the power to manipulate souls lies in this tiny gem.

“I think that answers the question,” Natasha says, smiling in that slightly wicked way that makes her eyes gleam. 

He reaches out to touch her, still not quite believing that she’s real. When his arm makes contact with hers he begins to cry again, the sheer improbability of what they’ve done finally catching up to him.

Natasha pulls him into a tight hug, clutching him for all he’s worth, and she’s crying too, letting out sobs against his back. They’re alive, and they hold each other until they start to believe it.

When he lets go, it’s only to press his forehead against hers, letting her warmth bring him some measure of comfort. She is here, alive, safe, and if he focuses on the feeling of her against him, he can almost pretend that nothing else matters.   
Clint doesn’t know if the rest of this harebrained plan will even work. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever see his family again. He doesn’t know anything for certain except that he loves Natasha and that he wants to kiss her more than anything else in the universe right now. 

So he does. And she kisses back, sure as always, her hands reaching around him again. She kisses him back and it means something. It feels good, and Clint hasn’t felt good in a very long time.

The good feeling ends the moment she pulls away, and all he’s left with is a gaping pit of guilt. His family may have been killed, but they’re who he’s fighting for. He remembers what it was like to kiss Laura, the tenderness that brought him to his knees, and he feels sick to his stomach.

“We should go,” he says brusquely, ignoring Natasha's look of worry.

And oh god, what has he done to Natasha? He knows she’s in love with Maria, though she’s never said it in as many words. He could see it in her fond smiles when she thought no one was looking, and then later in the worried lines around her eyes. Yet another thing he’s ruined without a care. 

Natasha nods, and they set off to find the ship they arrived in. Neither of them mention what happened, not then, and not when they arrive home. Clint tries to put it behind him, but the memory of the kiss sticks with him, the one-two punch of fondness and guilt its ever-present companions.

**ii. mind**

_The Barton family homestead, Missouri_

Laura blinks and the world comes tumbling back. Or at least this is what she tells herself, when she tries to remember. In reality, the moment that the present became five years in the future is almost infinitesimally small, the two times blurring together in her mind. The blink is a way to separate them, the past and the present, the world she knew and the one she now lives in.

Laura blinks and the grass is taller. It’s almost up to her hips, the unkempt blades swaying in the breeze. She can see Cooper in the distance, looking around. Lila’s by the archery target, where she had been a moment ago, though Clint is nowhere to be seen. Nathaniel is… Laura realizes she can’t see him, panic bubbling in her chest.

“Nat!” she calls, feeling relief wash over her at his immediate response.

“Mama?” She follows the sound of his voice into the grass, scooping him into her arms when she finds him. He’s been complaining lately about being too big to be picked up, but this time, he doesn’t offer a single protest.

Together, they find first Cooper and then Lila, walking together towards their house. Laura can feel the fear inside herself, all the unanswered questions, but she fights to keep from showing it. 

The outside of the house itself is dilapidated, as if someone hasn’t been inside in a long time. Laura pushes on the front door and it swings open, the sound echoing through the hallway. Inside, it looks exactly as she’d left it only minutes previously, the kids’ art still hanging on the walls, though a thin layer of dust covers everything. 

When they enter the living room Nathaniel begins to cry. Cooper shushes him gently, ruffling his hair as Laura sets him down on the couch. Lila begins pacing, clearing a dust-free trail on the floorboards. She breaks the silence suddenly, her voice shaking.

“What happened?” The question hangs in the air, no one daring to posit a theory. Nat keeps crying and Laura finds herself wanting to join him in that primal release of emotion.

Laura may not know what’s happened, but she does have an inkling of what to do. She and Clint had always known that the farmhouse was never truly safe, as much as they wanted it to be. She goes to the shed, digging up the kit they buried in case of emergencies. Nathaniel trails behind, unwilling to let her out of his sight.

She hauls the container out into the yard, pulling everything they ever thought they would need out of it. Finding a satellite phone, she turns it on, but it stubbornly refuses to give her any signal. The truck is gone too, so there’s no way to leave or figure out what exactly is going on. Thank God they have enough cans to last them a lifetime.

It takes Clint a long time to find them, or at least that’s the way it seems to Laura. She and the kids are in the living room again, playing Monopoly, when she hears the sound of a car coming up the driveway. Against her better judgement, she runs to the door, though not before making Nathaniel and Cooper and Lila cram into the hall closet. 

The man who steps out of the car isn’t quite her husband. He resembles him, sure, has those broad shoulders and square jaw she had fallen in love with. But this man looks tired. His shoulders stoop in a way that Clint’s never did, and the lines in his forehead are too many to count. 

His face falls as he looks around, seeing nothing but the tall grass blowing in the wind. Laura takes a deep breath, pushing open the door. He doesn’t turn his head at the sound, so she approaches him softly, so that by the time he turns to look she’s only ten or so feet away.

Clint makes up that distance in seconds, running to her like it is his sole purpose. Before she knows what’s happening, he’s sweeping her into his arms, holding her so tight she almost can’t breathe. When he sets her down, he gives her a kiss that makes her dizzy, then another one. 

“You’re here,” he says, laughing in disbelief. “You’re really here.”

She laughs too, though she doesn’t quite understand what he means. She still doesn’t understand much, but right now she’s just content to know that her family is safe.

As if on cue, Lila and Cooper and Nathaniel come sprinting out the front door. Laura is really going to have to talk to them about following directions, but that can wait for another day. Clint hugs them all for a long time, then studies each of their faces in turn as if refreshing his memories of them. Laura thinks she sees a tear fall, but it’s gone as soon as it appeared.

Over dinner, Clint fills them in on what happened. They listen raptly, barely touching their food. It doesn’t seem possible that something like that could have occurred without them remembering it, but the signs of their disappearance are all around them. Clint tells them about epic battles, about good triumphing over evil, and Nathaniel laughs and Lila smiles and even Cooper looks a little impressed.

Later, when they’ve tucked the kids into bed, Clint’s hands shaking as he pulls up the covers, Laura asks him to tell her the truth. He starts his story again, five years ago, his family all gone. He tells her about losing purpose, about what he did in his quest to find meaning. She doesn’t flinch.

They’re in bed together, his stomach pressed up against her back. Laura curls herself under his chin, feeling the way they fit together, their shared warmth.

He tells her about the heist, about their moonshot plan that worked against all odds. He tells her about time travel and gamma radiation and barren planets that hold unspeakable power. He is calm, almost emotionless, but when he tells her about the final battle, his voice hitches.

“Who did we lose?” asks Laura.

“Tony,” is his response, and there’s some small, mean part of her that’s secretly glad it wasn’t Natasha. She doesn’t think Clint could survive that. 

Clint sucks in a breath, and Laura waits for what he has to say. “He… he had a daughter… with Pepper. Her name was Morgan.”

She feels guilty for that instinctive reaction now, because she can’t imagine what she would do if Clint hadn’t come back. She’d thought about, in the time when they were waiting, what she would do if he never returned. By the time he did, she still hadn’t come up with an answer.

“You should invite her to stay,” she says, because caring is what she knows how to do.

Clint hums an assent, the sound resonating into her body. Laura pulls the covers up to her chin and settles into the feel of him. Clint falls asleep almost immediately, the exhaustion evident in the way the tension in his body unspools as he slumbers, but Laura lies awake. Despite his candidness, she can’t quite shake the nagging feeling that Clint hasn’t told her the whole truth.

**iii. space**

_New York City, Earth_

Natasha catches up to Maria at the Empire State Building. The city has centered their relief efforts there, providing supplies and helping people connect with their loved ones. Though Maria no longer holds a governmental position, Natasha finds her in the thick of it, passing out water bottles and maps of the city. She joins Maria’s line, pulling her hood up in an attempt to remain inconspicuous.

“Water bottle?” Maria asks, not looking up. Natasha takes it but doesn’t move away, unscrewing the cap and waiting to be noticed. Strands have started escaping from Maria’s usually neat bun, and if Natasha had to guess, she’d say that Maria hasn’t slept since she returned, too busy helping others.

Never one for waiting patiently, Natasha clears her throat slightly. Maria looks up, ready to shoo her away.

“Nat...Natasha,” she says instead, giving her a quick once-over as if to confirm that she is indeed looking at the flesh and blood body of her girlfriend.

Natasha has a million things to say to Maria. A million things she thought she’d never get the chance to say. In her five years of mourning, she never once planned what to say if she saw Maria again. What comes out is painfully bland: “Can we talk?”

Maria smiles slightly at the question, and oh how Natasha has missed that smile. 

“When I get done with this,” Maria says, gesturing at the line that’s formed behind Natasha. She scribbles something on the corner of a piece of paper, rips it off, and hands it to Natasha. “Meet me there at five.”

Natasha glances quickly at the slip of paper. It’s an address in Midtown, a hotel if she’s not mistaken. She tucks the paper in her pocket, feeling suddenly awkward. The two of them had never been especially expressive, but this was the part where they’d usually exchange a goodbye kiss.

Thankfully, Maria leans in, and Natasha is reminded that, for Maria, it’s only been a few days since they last saw each other. She remembers their routines with ease, unlike Natasha, who used to spend mornings with her eyes closed, trying to remember the sound of a laugh or the feeling of chapped lips against hers.

No matter how many times she tried to picture that last image, the real thing is infinitely better. It’s just a light kiss, a soft brush before Maria pulls back, tucking a wisp of her hair back into place.

Behind her, Natasha makes out the whispered words “black” and “widow” and takes that as her cue to leave, steps filled with a new lightness.

It’s a short walk to the address Maria gave her, so Natasha takes her time, ambling through the streets. She stops at a pizzeria, because not even the reversal of a universe-wide cataclysm could cause New York pizzerias to close, and buys a large cheese pizza, telling the cashier to keep the change. When she arrives at the hotel, she’s still got plenty of time to spare, but she shakes her hair free of her hood and heads straight to the lobby.

“You’re Black Widow!” says the clerk working the front desk. Natasha hasn’t been sure how the final battle is being framed, but his enthusiasm indicates she’s still something of a hero.

“I am,” she responds, opting for her trademark brevity. 

“How can I help you?” The kid (because he really isn’t much older than one) is practically bouncing, and Natasha wonders how young he was when the Snap happened. For those who were too young to remember when it happened, Earth without half its population was simply business as usual.

“Can I have the keys to a specific room?” she asks. Normally, she’d just scale the building until she found the room. Persuasion is much more Maria’s style. But Natasha is trying to be politer these days.

“Well… it’s not really company policy,” he starts, and Natasha glares at him, because some habits are hard to break. “But for you I’m sure we can make an exception. What room are you looking for?”

Natasha gives him the number and waits patiently while he prepares the cards. When he’s done, he hands them to her, pointing out the elevator that will take her up to the correct floor. As she turns to leave, he speaks again.

“Would– would it be possible for you to give me an autograph?” Natasha has never liked giving autographs. Every signature she leaves is a clue as to where she’s been, a trail for those who wish her harm. But they’ve won. This should be peacetime, as much as Natasha knows that’s never really existed.

In a moment of indulgence, Natasha turns back towards him, holding out her hand for something to sign. He hands her a pen and a notepad, both prominently stamped with the hotel’s logo. She scrawls her name in large letters, giving it a ridiculous flourish at the end before handing it back to the clerk and walking away.

She’s never liked enclosed spaces, so Natasha opts for the stairs, though it’s obvious the hotel doesn’t expect them to be used outside of an emergency. The white walls are rough to the touch, her steps echoing against the uncarpeted floor. She ascends quickly, double-checking the floor number before opening the hallway door. 

The room is right by the stairs, the perfect choice for someone used to needing easy exits. A single queen bed sits in the middle of the room, covers perfectly made. Maria’s bag is at the foot of the bed, but there are no other signs of inhabitance. Natasha sets the pizza down on the desk before going to inspect the bathroom.

There’s a washcloth hanging on the towel rack. Natasha grabs it and runs it under the tap, looking at her face in the mirror. She looks tired, but that’s nothing new. She’s been tired for five years, tired for so long she’s not sure she remembers what the alternative is. She brings the cloth up to her face, letting the cold of it sink into her skin. 

After the battle had ended, none of them had known quite what to do. It was a victory, but it didn’t feel like one. When she tried to sleep, Natasha could still see Tony lying there in the rubble, could still remember the sounds of battle and the feeling of grime against her skin.

Eventually, they all began to peel off. Clint was first, desperate to see his family. He told them his plan was to drive to NYC and see if any planes were flying. If not, he’d just keep on driving until he got to them.

Natasha was standing among the rubble when she felt a hand land on her shoulder. She whirled around, ready to snap at whoever appeared, but bit back her reaction at the sight of Clint. He cocked an eyebrow at her, that lazy grin she hadn’t seen in years sliding into place.

“Need a ride?” She nodded sharply, trying to summon her own smile and failing.

The ride to the city was silent. They still hadn’t spoken about what had happened on Vormir. Before, they had had the excuse of bigger things to deal with, but now there was nothing left to distract them. And still Natasha couldn’t find the courage to bring it up.

She wanted to, had wanted to since the moment they had kissed. What did it mean to him? Maria and Laura had been dead, but they had been fighting to get them back. Did that make it cheating? It hadn’t felt like infidelity. It had felt like a relief, a natural consequence of discovering she was still alive.

Natasha had volunteered to be the one to die because she had seen what the loss had done to Clint. It had hurt them all, but it had torn away at him until the strips that remained were no longer the man she had known. Maria would understand. This was the life they led, one where there were no promises of coming home. It might be painful, but she would move on.

But when she had opened her eyes and seen red sky, felt her body floating in the pond, something had shifted. In that moment, success suddenly and finally felt possible.

She loves Clint because he knows her almost better than she knows herself. When she had kissed him, it hadn’t felt like crossing a boundary. It had felt natural, like something they had been doing for years.

With Maria, every kiss was to be treasured, exchanged on helicarriers and in hotel rooms before heading off to war. But they had both stubbornly refused to ever make any of them a goodbye. It had meant Natasha always had something to look forward to, but it also meant that, for five years, she had believed she would never get to properly say goodbye to Maria.

If Natasha had to pick between Clint and Maria, she would sacrifice herself over again rather than choose. It’s not up to her, though. She understands how it will shake out. Clint will go home to his wife and his children, and she will go home to Maria, the woman she loves. It’s the easy solution, the realistic solution, but it doesn’t feel like the right one.

She sighs, leaving the bathroom and flopping down on the hotel bed. This thinking is doing nothing but giving her a headache, and she, like Maria, hasn’t slept in recent memory. Laying the cold washcloth over her face, Natasha plunges near immediately into sleep.

By the time Maria arrives in the room, Natasha has woken up from her nap. Despite feeling much more refreshed, she’s made no progress detangling her thoughts. Instead, she’s opted to open the pizza, downing half of it without moving. 

Upon seeing Natasha, Maria gives her a disapproving look. Natasha knows she looks ridiculous, sitting on the bed with the pizza box in her lap when the desk is only a few feet away, but she can’t be bothered to move. After a moment, Maria’s face softens and the tiredness comes flooding back in.

“Want a piece?” Natasha offers, because she’s always been better with actions than words.

Maria looks as though she’s about to refuse, then thinks better of it and holds out her hand. Natasha tears off a piece of the now-cold pizza and hands it to her, watching as Maria practically inhales it.

When she’s finished, Maria sits down on the edge of the bed. Natasha sets the pizza box down on the night table and pats the empty space next to her. Part of her expects Maria to say no, but Maria scoots up next to her obligingly, their sides touching.

“Tell me what happened,” she says with that authoritative note that Natasha has always had difficulty resisting, though it’s rare that she actually wants to. “Start from the beginning.”

For Maria, the beginning is the Snap, so Natasha starts there, recounting everything that’s happened since she has been gone. She omits the specific details of what happened on Vormir, though it makes her feel sick to do so, the pizza suddenly feeling much too heavy in her stomach. Maria is quiet while Natasha talks, so much so that she isn’t sure Maria hasn’t fallen asleep by the end, but when she looks over to check, Maria is watching her attentively.

Maria waits a moment, as if to confirm that Natasha is finished. When no further details are forthcoming, she reaches over and cups Natasha’s cheek with her hand. Her hands are warm, the way Natasha’s never are, and Natasha hasn’t been touched with such softness since Vormir.

“What happened to you?”

Well, there’s a million dollar question if Natasha has ever heard one. Time, mostly, and resignation about what had happened. She had held on to what they’d had left, but it was never enough. Now, almost everything has returned and she still doesn’t know what to do with herself. The sickness she’d felt earlier comes rolling back, leaving a sour taste in her mouth.

“Maria–” she says, words coming out of her almost before she knows what she’s saying, or even that she wants to say it at all. “Something else happened while you were gone.”

How is she supposed to explain it? It had been hard enough telling five years of history, especially because she’d rather forget them, but finding the words to describe this is somehow more difficult.

Natasha begins simply enough. “On that planet, the one that Clint and I went to, we were told that one of us had to die.” Maria inhales sharply, and Natasha continues. “I chose myself, because– because even though I wanted so much to see you again, I could never live with taking Clint away from his family. But Clint chased after me–”

“Of course he did,” Maria interjects, shaking her head fondly, and Natasha can’t help but let out a laugh. In retrospect, it does seem a little ridiculous to think that Clint wouldn’t try and save her by any means possible.

Taking a deep breath, Natasha tries to summon enough courage to finish the story. She lifts her freezing hands up to Maria’s warm one, bringing it away from her cheek and holding it in her lap. The room has been silent for too long, so Natasha squeezes her eyes closed and rushes through the rest of the words.

“And somehow we both lived, and we kissed, and I think I’ve loved him for years, only we never called it that.” She opens her eyes, trying to gage Maria’s reaction, but there’s a myriad of emotions swirling in her eyes, impossible to discern from one another. “And I don’t know if that makes me a bad person, or someone you never want to see again, but it’s what happened.”

When she’s finished, Natasha lies back on the bed, unwilling to look Maria in the eyes. She’s never been able to have a good thing without spoiling it. Now she thinks it might be because she never deserved those good things in the first place.

Maria lies down next to her, both of them looking up at the ceiling. Natasha rolls onto her side, Maria echoing her a moment later. Maria’s crying silently, tears running down her face, and Natasha braces herself for anger or sadness, both entirely deserved.

“You’ve always loved Clint more than you loved yourself.” Natasha blinks, Maria’s response catching her off-guard.

“I did?” Her voice comes out embarrassingly small.

Maria nods, and this time it’s Natasha who reaches for her, lacing their fingers together. 

“I suppose it wasn’t obvious to you, but everyone else could see how much you loved him,” she says, smiling fondly. “I thought there was no way in hell I’d have a chance with you.”

It’s true that Natasha has always cared deeply for Clint. But that doesn’t negate how she feels about Maria. The first time Natasha had seen her, Maria had been in the midst of a crisis, barking orders to soldiers left and right. Natasha had stopped straight in her tracks, unable to do anything but admire her. She had known Maria by reputation, the grapevine full of gossip about how she had moved up the ranks so quickly, but no one had ever bothered to mention that she was drop-dead gorgeous. 

“I love you, Marusya, you know that?” One day while Maria was gone, Natasha had made a list of regrets. Chief among them was not telling Maria she loved her more. She had saved those words for important occasions, worrying that using them too much would ruin them. Now she plans to say them as much as Maria will let her.

In response, Maria squeezes their interlocked hands. “I love you too, Natasha.”

Within minutes, Maria falls asleep, clearly as tired as Natasha had been. Natasha watches her sleep, still not quite able to believe that she seems to have been forgiven. But then again, Maria has never been one to make rash judgements.

Maria is steady where Natasha is volatile, order where she is chaos. She complements her in big ways and little ones, understands her better than almost anyone. Despite how much she loves Clint, if he knocked on the door right now and asked Natasha to run away with him, she would say no, because she never wants to abandon Maria, not again.

**iv. power**

_The Stark Eco-Compound, somewhere in the United States_

Tony’s funeral is held a few days later. Friends and family arrive from all corners of the world, emerging from the places they’ve retreated to since the final battle. Every one of them had needed to heal, needed to get away from where it all happened.

Maria and Natasha pack up the hotel room and drive to the funeral, singing along to 80s hits as they go. It feels strangely irreverent, but Natasha can’t help but suspect that Tony would have liked it that way.

At the funeral, Natasha largely avoids Clint, exchanging pleasantries but not much more. They get a couple of strange looks from people who are used to seeing the two of them attached at the hip, but no one is bold enough to mention it.

Near the end of the service, Clint and Natasha find themselves standing next to each other. Natasha is holding hands with Maria, but she reaches instinctively with her other hand for Clint. His other hand is in Laura’s, and the four of them stand like that while Tony’s arc reactor is sent off, watching until it’s barely visible.

The kids are restless by then, so Laura promises that they can visit a park later and run around to their hearts’ content. Natasha, overhearing, smiles, and Laura turns to her.

“Would you like to come with us? I can’t promise it will be fun, but it would be nice to have you and Maria anyway.” 

Natasha freezes. On the one hand, she wants nothing more than to spend time with Lila and Cooper and especially Nathaniel. On the other, she has no idea what Clint has told Laura, if this invitation stems from forgiveness or ignorance. 

Maria, sensing Natasha’s panic, steps forward. “We’d love to,” she says, then inclines her head towards Clint. “If that’s okay with you, that is.”

Clint looks like he’s about to give a polite refusal, and Natasha feels a little bit of relief wash over her. This will be better for all of them. Then Lila tugs on his arm, looking at all of them with big eyes.

“Please?” she says, and Natasha knows what he’ll say. Clint could never refuse Lila anything.

“Sure, munchkin,” he replies, and Lila cheers. Clint puts a finger to his lips, reminding her that they’re still at a funeral, though, thankfully, no one seems to have heard them.

Lila grins at Natasha, who smiles back and braces herself for an afternoon of metaphorical minefields.

~

When the funeral is finished and they’ve said the requisite goodbyes, Laura drives to the nearest state park as Clint navigates, paper maps spread out on his lap. Maria and Natasha follow in their car, pulling into the parking space next to theirs when they all arrive.

The kids hop out of the car, sprinting towards the trailhead before Laura or Clint can tell them otherwise. Clint runs after them while Laura stays behind to wait for Maria and Natasha. The two of them step out of their car a moment later. 

Natasha’s lips are definitely pinker than they had been before, and Maria’s hair has the distinct look of having been mussed up and smoothed back down again. Laura raises a knowing eyebrow at them and is surprised when Natasha cringes slightly. Even though she’s a private person, Natasha doesn’t embarrass easily.

Laura doesn’t pry further, and the three of them walk over to where Clint and the kids are already standing. They pick a trail, one that won’t take them more than a couple hours, and set off on the path. Maria and Natasha walk behind them while Clint and Laura bring up the rear. 

Clint seems on edge. Laura tries to make eye contact with him, but he won’t look at her. She remembers her thought, that first night he returned, that there was something he wasn’t telling her.

She takes his hand and he flinches and pulls away, further confirming her suspicions. The silence between them is heavy, though Clint tries to mend it by extending his hand again. Laura takes it, but her curiosity is too strong now to be ignored.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, quiet enough that he’s the only one who can hear her.

Clint swallows heavily and doesn’t respond for a long moment. Laura waits patiently, trying not to imagine the possibilities of what he’ll say. 

“I kissed Natasha.” Laura makes a sound that’s half ‘oh’ and half ‘what’ and trips over her own feet, falling to her knees on the ground. Maria turns at the sound, but she starts walking again when Laura waves her on.

Laura rocks back on her heels and stands up, ignoring Clint’s help.

“When? Why?” Laura tries to control her tone, but it still comes out harsher than she intends. She’s suddenly afraid that he’s about to leave her. There’s been a connection between Clint and Natasha since the moment they had met, and maybe this is where that connection leads.

“On Vormir, when we finally had the stone” he responds, and she takes a kind of perverse comfort in the fact that at least it happened while she was dead. “I can’t give you a good reason why I did it. But you deserve to know the truth, and I’m only sorry I didn’t tell you earlier.”

In a way, the kissing is easier to understand than the deception. The kissing makes almost too much sense. If you’d ever stopped to listen to the S.H.I.E.L.D. gossip, there was a good chance they’d be discussing whether or not Clint and Natasha were secretly dating. 

It’s the lying that gets her. Is this who Clint had become while she was gone? Did he lose so much in those five years that he no longer feels like he can tell her the truth? For the first time in her life, Laura starts to doubt whether the foundations of their relationship are sturdy enough to hold. 

“If you had told me the truth, I would have forgiven you,” she tells him, angry and sad and terrified of what this means for them. “Why didn’t you know that?”

With that, she leaves him behind, walking quickly to rejoin the rest of their group. 

Half a mile on, they stop to rest at a group of rocks that overlook the river. The view is beautiful, forest stretching for miles and sunlit reflections dancing on the river’s surface. Laura beckons Natasha a little distance away from Maria and the kids and wastes no time getting to business. 

“I know you kissed Clint.” Her tone brooks no denial, and thankfully, Natasha doesn’t pretend otherwise. 

“I did, and I’m sorry.” She meets Laura’s gaze, seemingly resigned to whatever reaction is to follow. “I felt awful, seeing how guilty it made him feel.”

Natasha’s words engender a pang of sympathy for Clint in Laura, one that his words had been unable to conjure. She imagines the guilt was what made him keep silent, the mistaken belief that it would go away if he just ignored it. Or maybe it was the guilt of wanting it despite everything. 

Despite what Natasha might think, Laura isn’t here to give her a tongue-lashing, mostly because she doesn’t believe that Natasha harbors any ill will for her. In all the years she’s known her, Natasha has never shown any signs of being envious of Laura and Clint’s relationship. Besides, Laura has a different motivation for this conversation.

“Did you tell Maria?” she asks.

“Yes.” Laura’s pretty sure responding with only enough words to answer the question is a skill Natasha perfected in spy school. 

“When?” She almost hopes the answer is recently, though she doesn’t want another person to be blindsided like she was.

“The first night we were reunited. Maria asked me to tell her everything that happened, and it felt wrong to leave that out.” As Natasha speaks, Laura is struck by how closely their story mirrors hers and Clint’s. Why, then, did he keep silent when Natasha was able to tell the truth?

As if sensing her question, Natasha speaks. “We all changed during those five years, but Clint most of all.” She drops her gaze, and her next words come out strangled. “Maybe– maybe he was afraid that this was one step too far.”

Natasha blames herself, Laura realizes. She thinks that if anything happens to Clint and Laura’s relationship, the blame will fall squarely on her. In reality, Laura knows it’s no one’s fault, not even Clint’s. His fears had been justified, because Laura doesn’t even know what she would have done if he had told her that first night, when it was all she could do to keep the tiredness from claiming her. If Laura is angry at anyone, she’s angry at whatever god decided that all of them somehow deserved this mess.

Sighing, Laura unzips her backpack and pulls out a granola bar, offering it to Natasha, who takes it with a quiet thanks. With her eyes closed, the late afternoon sun streaming through the trees, Laura can almost pretend that it is five years ago and the world is still simple and mostly kind.

~

From his perch on the other side of the clearing, Clint is watching Natasha and Laura. He can’t quite make out their voices, and it’s near-impossible to read lips from this angle, but so far they don’t seem to be having a screaming match. Clint is relieved. A downside to living in relative isolation is that they don’t have many friends, but Laura and Natasha had taken to each other easily, and he’d hate for his behavior to mean Natasha never wants to see either of them again.

Though, he’s not out of the woods yet, he supposes, looking over at Maria. She’s laughing easily at something that Cooper said, a far cry from the authoritative reputation she had gained in her years at S.H.I.E.L.D.

At first, he hadn’t known what Natasha saw in her. Sure, she was pretty, but he had always regarded their handlers as strictly off-limits. Maria was still young then, but she was already known for her no-nonsense behavior, something that didn’t exactly mesh well with Clint’s more eccentric tendencies. She’d never outright said it, but he suspected that she didn’t like him all that much.

When she and Natasha had started dating, he had expressed his worries to Laura. As time passed, though, Maria grew more comfortable around them, and a new side of her emerged. She was still the rule-following, well-organized woman everyone knew, but she was also caring and funny and could beat pretty much anyone at a game of pool. And she adored Natasha. The two of them thought they were being subtle about their relationship, but anyone with at least one functioning eye could see the love in their faces.

Maria is probably pissed at him, and he’d be lying if he said that didn’t scare him at least a little. He knows he deserves it, but his current problem is big enough as it is. Why the hell didn’t he tell Laura right away? He’s not sure he knows the answer. 

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it, considered whether a lie of omission was better than the truth. His kiss with Natasha had been real, but he’d thought he could move past it. Instead, he’s just ended up hurting everyone.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and Maria turns away from the kids and towards him, pointing at herself as if to confirm the statement is directed at her. He nods, and she smiles, a thin tight-lipped smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“What for?” Clint suspects ‘everything’ would not be an answer she finds satisfactory. Instead, he picks a place to begin.

“I love Natasha.” As best friends, but also as something more. It’s a conclusion that has been a long time coming, and one he’s reluctant to let go of, though it’s brought nothing good so far.

“I know,” Maria responds, and he can tell from her tone that she understands what he means as well. “And I know you kissed her.”

She says it with the kind of calm that only comes when you’ve truly absorbed information, so score one for Natasha on the transparency front, he supposes. He opens his mouth to apologize again, but she stops him. “Don’t bother. Saying sorry again won’t do anything.”

“I want her to be happy.” With you, he means. Without him. “I understand if you want me to leave you two alone.”

Maria scoffs. “If you think Natasha would be happy without you, you have got another thing coming.”

It’s a sentence that fills him with hope even as it cuts right to his core. If Maria had wanted him to stay away from them, he would have. But he wouldn’t be happy without Natasha either, no matter how much he’s been pretending that never seeing her again would be the easier option.

Before he can ask Maria how to go about fixing all of this, Laura and Natasha wander back, both of them unusually grave. The sun is going to set soon, orange and pink rays beginning to dust the horizon as head back towards the parking lot.

When it comes time to leave, the kids protest, wanting to spend more time with Auntie Natasha and Auntie Maria. Clint makes them say their farewells, with hugs exchanged and promises to visit extracted, before bundling them firmly into the car. 

Then, it’s time for him and Laura to say goodbye. Laura exchanges cheek kisses with both Maria and Natasha, while Clint hangs back awkwardly, hands in his pockets. Natasha closes the distance between them confidently, sweeping him into a hug.

“Take care of yourself,” she says, the words muffled by his shoulder. 

Maria’s next, giving him a less-expressive hug that still has warmth to it. As she pulls away, she looks him straight in the eyes. “You saved her life, Clint. One kiss doesn’t begin to erase the debt I owe you.”

She and Natasha get into their car and drive off into the night, their taillights fading quickly out of sight. Clint watches them go, then ducks into his seat, getting ready to make the long drive home.

Hours pass, but Clint can’t get his conversation with Maria out of his head. If he and Natasha can only be friends, he’ll take that in a heartbeat over nothing at all. Besides, a spark often fizzles out, so it’s probably best for everyone if this is how it goes. Clint has almost convinced himself that he’s right, ignoring the fact that the spark between him and Natasha has burned strong for many years, when Laura upends his whole solution.

They’re still in the car, somewhere on an empty patch of road in rural Illinois, nothing but fields stretching in front and behind them. In the rearview mirror, he can see the kids asleep in the backseat, Lila’s head on Cooper’s shoulder and Nathaniel curled up into his carseat. 

“I know you love Natasha,” Laura says, and his heart sinks, because this sounds awfully like the beginning of an ‘it’s not me, it’s you’ speech.

“I love you,” he protests, not taking his eyes off the road. “I’ve loved you since I set eyes on you.”

“I didn’t dispute that, did I?” There’s a smile in her voice, and Clint’s worries ease slightly. “You love me, you love your children, and you also love Natasha.”

It’s a statement of fact, but Clint still voices his agreement. “Yeah– yeah I guess I do.”

They lapse back into silence for some miles, letting the endless countryside fly by them. In the back, Cooper wakes up, knocking Lila’s head off his shoulder as he stretches. There’s a little shoving between them, but before long they’ve fallen asleep again, though this time Lila’s head rests against the car door. Laura waits until they’ve fallen asleep to speak again.

“You know, I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to have an relationship with Natasha. Romantically, I mean.” 

“What?” Clint’s knee-jerk reaction is to say no, that he’s content with what they have, but the more he considers it, the more it doesn’t sound like a bad idea. He’s happy with what he has, but he knows he could be more than that.

“It’s– it’s just–” Laura is uncharacteristically tongue-tied, struggling to find the words to express her thoughts. “I’m not afraid that you’ll suddenly run away with Natasha, so why deny you the chance to love her?”

It’s simply put but elegant, in all ways utterly Laura. Clint nods his agreement, resisting the impulse to pinch himself in case he discovers this is an all-too-perfect dream. 

Over the following weeks, he and Laura work on rebuilding the trust between them. He tells her the full story of what happened on Vormir, how he’d felt trying to make an impossible choice. She confesses how overwhelming it is to know time has passed without actually experiencing it, how it still doesn’t feel real some days. 

They lay out rules for dating other people, what things they’re comfortable with and what things are reserved only for them. Clint knows they won’t get things perfect the first time around, but beginning is the only way to begin. Once the rules are agreed upon, there’s nothing left to do but ask. 

The two of them wait until Natasha and Maria come to visit to broach the idea. The four of them are in the living room, catching up on what’s occurred since they last saw each other. Maria and Natasha occupy the couch while Clint and Laura sit across from them, holding hands. A feeling of slight awkwardness permeates the air, but the chatter still flows naturally enough. Laura waits for a lull in the conversation and looks at him expectantly. 

It’s Clint who asks the question directly, but Laura who explains, her eloquence serving them well. Both of them are equal partners in this, even if Clint is the only one doing the dating.

He asks the question, Laura explains, and Natasha, trained super spy though she may be, turns away from the table, her face in her hands.

“Natasha?” Maria says softly, and Natasha begins to cry, shoulders heaving. Clint wants to rush over and scoop her into his arms, but for all he knows, he’s the source of this anguish. 

Laura, of course, knows just what to do. She rises from her chair, beckoning Clint to follow her, and heads towards the kitchen. “We’ll give you two a moment.”

~

Maria’s brain is currently trying to process several pieces of information. One: Clint wants to date Natasha. Two: Laura seems to be a-ok with this occurring, indicating previous discussion. Three, and most pressingly: Natasha is currently a sobbing wreck next to her.

She takes Natasha into her arms, squeezing lightly and letting Natasha’s head fall onto her chest. When the sobs show no signs of stopping, Maria lifts Natasha’s chin with a gentle hand. Natasha looks at her with a vulnerability that Maria has rarely seen on her, if ever.

“What’s wrong?” Maria asks. Usually, that question doesn’t get more than a shrug out of Natasha, but her emotions look ready to spill over at a moment’s notice.

“I was never allowed to want,” Natasha says, shaking her head. “This feels like too much.”

“It’s okay,” Maria says, rubbing small circles into Natasha’s back with her other hand and silently vowing revenge on anyone who’s ever wronged her. “You deserve this.”

She lets Natasha lean back into her, waiting until her sobs have softened a little to ask: “Do you want to say yes? It’s your choice to make.”

Realistically, Maria knows she should be afraid that Natasha will leave her, that she’ll realize that Clint is the only one she’s wanted all along. But if that’s the truth, she’d rather Natasha find love than be with her. 

In response, Natasha nods. The question sets off a new flood of tears, but Maria can tell that these ones are happy tears. They begin to taper off quickly, and Natasha is smiling by the time Clint peeks cautiously around the doorframe, though her eyes are still watery. Maria gives him a nod and he enters, followed by none other than little Nathaniel.

“I heard you were crying,” Nathaniel says. “Do you want a hug?” 

Natasha picks him up, setting him in her lap and letting him wrap his arms around her. Maria looks up at Clint and finds him watching Natasha and Nathaniel, adoration evident in his eyes. If Natasha had to go and fall in love with anyone, Maria is glad that it’s Clint.

Nathaniel releases his grip on Natasha and looks up at Maria. “Do you also want a hug, Auntie Maria?”

Maria gladly accepts, grinning at the title he’s given her. He crawls from Natasha’s lap to hers, squeezing her tightly. Natasha turns to Maria and gives her a beatific smile that seems to light up her entire face. Maria smiles back, leaning in to kiss Natasha softly.

Maria has always been a worrier. It’s an instinct she learned to push back, to compartmentalize to keep herself from shutting down. It still leaks out, though, especially when it comes to people she loves. For weeks, she’s been worried about Natasha, about what she would do if she and Clint could never be best friends again.

Now, she lets herself let go of those fears. It doesn’t matter what the future will look like, for Natasha, for her, or for anyone else. What matters is the present. Right now, the only thing she should be worried about it how she can get an increasingly heavy three-year-old off her lap without hurting his feelings.

**v. time**

_The Barton-Romanoff-Hill family homestead, Missouri_

Maria and Laura stand together in the kitchen. It’s after dinner, and the kids have gone off with Clint and Natasha, presumably to practice archery or interrogation techniques or something equally dangerous. Maria wishes they wouldn’t, wants to protest that they’re just children, but she knows that this is the only way Nat and Clint know how to keep anyone from getting hurt– by giving them the power to hurt. 

Laura is washing the dishes in the sink while Maria dries them, wiping them down with a cloth before putting them back in the cabinet.

This whole domesticity thing had taken time to get used to. Maria was never the kind of person who put down roots. It was less painful to move if there was nothing special you were leaving behind. She had traveled all around the world with S.H.I.E.L.D, making a group of people her home instead of a particular place.

At first, the house had been stifling. Her combat skills were of no use here, and her personnel management ones turned out to be nothing compared to Laura’s. Maria had expected Natasha to feel the same way, but Natasha took to the quiet life easily, happy to spend endless hours playing with the kids. Maria couldn’t help but feel like the odd one out.

It had been Laura who’d helped her adjust. She’d asked Maria to inspect the squeaky screen door, then the place where the roof had sprung a leak, then the window that didn’t close properly. It turned out leaving a home unattended for five years caused a lot of problems, and almost before she knew it, Maria had become skilled with a hammer and wrench. There was always something new to fix, and it was good to do something with her hands. Natasha had even gifted her a red bandana, insisting she do a Rosie the Riveter pose for the camera.

It’s been almost six months since she and Natasha moved in. They’d kept their apartment in New York at first, coming down to visit the homestead whenever possible. But before long, they were making enough trips that moving in seemed the only sensible option. 

The kids had taken to it surprisingly easily, eager to have more adults around to entertain them. The four of them had been open and truthful, explaining that some people found love with more than one person, and that loving multiple people was good as long as everyone agreed to it.

Besides the kids, they’ve kept their relationship relatively quiet. Pepper and Morgan had come to visit them, but Pepper had only raised a single eyebrow at them before offering her sincere congratulations. Since then, several others have found out, in one way or another, and the four of them will tell the truth to just about anyone who asks.

Sometimes, when people learn of their arrangement, they ask why Laura and Maria aren’t also dating. It would make them more whole, they seem to suggest, if their love formed a perfect circle.

Maria scoffs at those people. She and Laura have a relationship. They have a friendship based on mutual respect and trust. The two of them watch terrible home makeover shows together and always win when they’re a team in Scrabble. When Clint and Natasha want to sleep in the same bed, Laura and Maria will share the other one, often waking up with limbs intertwined.

When Maria wants someone to hold the ladder while she washes the windows on the second floor, she asks Clint. When she wants someone to hold her at the end of a long day, Natasha is there before she even has to say anything. But when she wants someone to listen to her without judgement and only give her advice when she asks for it, there’s no one better than Laura.

So yeah, Maria thinks as Laura passes her another dish to dry, she and Laura have a relationship, and it’s one she wouldn’t give up for the world. 

Besides, no matter what other people might say, all of them seem pretty damn whole to her.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and concrit are welcomed, either here or on [tumblr](https://etherealanything.tumblr.com)!


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